


My seat

by CMDAK



Series: His, mine and maybe ours [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, onesided!James/Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James seems to exist only to steal Q's seat on the train and antagonize him. One should go to anger management classes and the other to the sexual harassment ones. Based off a tumblr prompt.</p><p>Second chapter happened by accident and it is from Bond's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His seat

**Author's Note:**

> So, this happened. I am still in denial about this ship, seeing as my heart got broken when Vesper died.  
> Original prompt was "we get the same train to work every morning and you always take the good seat so i glare at you until you let me sit there au" by broomstiks on tumblr.
> 
> Sorry in advance for any and all mistakes.

It was ridiculous, the fact that the famous James Bond took a train to get to work. Before last week, Q was sure that 007 didn’t even know how to ride a train like a normal person and not on the roof, shooting at various henchmen. And yet there he was, James bloody Bond, sitting casually sitting in Q’s favorite spot at the window, making the random young woman to his left giggling with his cheesy lines.

 

“I’ll send him on his next mission on the Cattle class,” Q muttered, barely managing to hold back a groan when a new wave of people got on the train, pushing him further away from his beloved seat. At least he didn’t have to see 007’s bloody smile anymore. Of course, this meant he couldn’t glare at him anymore either.

 

Contrary to what his colleagues thought of him – that he was a reclusive mad genius who preferred to spend his time in front of large computer screens in the underground and as far away from sunlight and anything that might resemble human interaction or the outside world – Q was fascinated by it. He liked to sit quietly in the train, at the window and simply observe the world around him.

 

True, he mostly got pleasure from seeing people emerged in flimsy little games, their faces scrunching up whenever they failed at a level while smirking at the fact that he could finish those games without hacking the game, but he also lived a normal life through them. Not once did he find himself listening in on various little gossips groups and imagining himself in their shoes, thinking about how he would have reacted in their place. Not that he regretted working for MI6, but on rare occasions, he wondered how it would be if his biggest problem was his boss catching him watching a random cat video on YouTube and then blocking the site – not that it would be hard for him to bypass the web filters since he himself had worked on most of them.

 

A little tug on his cardigan brought him out of his reverie and he suddenly found himself face to face with the bane of his existence, an annoying know-it-all smirk firmly in place on the lips that seemed to only be able to sprout lame flirting lines and bad news for his beloved technology.

 

“This is our stop,” the bloody agent said and Q looked around for a second before huffing and shrugging out of the agent’s hold. If he wasn’t the first on the train to secure _his_ spot, then he will bloody well be the first in the bloody MI6 building. So what if that didn’t matter to anyone? It mattered to him.

 

And no, no, he wasn’t being childish. It was the principle of the thing! So what if 007 didn’t know that he was sitting in _his_ spot? He was a spy, he should know that! Actually, now that he thought better, he had seen the agent on the same train as him a couple of months after Skyfall and there was no doubt that the agent had seen him as well. And since he always sat on in that seat, he was now without a doubt sure that the bloody pest _knew_ what he was doing.

 

With that revelation, Q stopped suddenly and turned around, full glare in place. He was startled to see the older man looking at him with a small smile on his face, left hand keeping the door open for the both of them.

 

“Quartermaster, perhaps you shouldn’t think of your zeroes and ones so hard and watch where you are going,” 007 said amusedly. “You almost walked into five people and this door. And that was just today.”

 

“You’ve been sitting in my sport on purpose!” Q replied angrily, words coming out hissed, hands thrown in the air. “I’ll make these bloody doors automatic today!” The quartermaster announced loudly to the world around him, startling the security guards and 007.

 

That day, everyone pretty much jumped out of Q’s way, his own minions cowering in various corners of the Q Branch, fearful of their overlord’s unexplained wrath. Of course, everyone knew that 007 had accompanied the speckled man to work and everyone was sure that the agent was to blame for the anger. Still, they didn’t understand why _they_ had to suffer the consequences of the agent’s misplaced flirting or questions regarding the younger man’s age and competence – since they were sure that James Bond wasn’t able to hold back from teasing his quartermaster no matter how many times the other promised to send him in the field with nothing but a simple paperclip and a water gun.

 

“Judi is in the bathroom, crying,” one of the minions whispered to the unfortunate one tasked to make Q his tea.

 

“What? Why? I am pretty sure he sent her to check the front doors… How can you make someone cry over that?” the other asked, holding the Q mug with shaky hands.

 

“He said she was too slow and that is why the doors closed on her. She has a nasty bump on her forehead and Mike from accounting – the blond guy she likes, by the way – saw that and laughed,” another minion clarified, stuffing his pockets full with muffins.

 

“This is Q branch, not gossip branch,” Q’s voice boomed over the speakers, causing the three minions to run back to their tasks. “And that bloody tea better be the best damn tea in the universe since it took you more than 20 minutes to make it!”

 

The minion thanked whatever God was listening since he was saved from a rather painful mug to the head by the reason of their quartermaster’s ire entering the man’s office. Good, the agent should be the one on the receiving end of the punishment, not the people who blindly followed Q and who would do anything in their power to make the man happy. The agent should pay for turning their overlord into a tyrant.

 

“Quartermaster, my quartermaster, what is the matter? I could hear you shout at these poor boffins from the hallway,” the agent mockingly asked.

 

Q did his best to ignore the man and keep a professional air, but he couldn’t be blamed from his eye twitching slightly. “A gun, codded to your fingerprint, as usual. And a signet ring which, when placed to against a computer with Wi-Fi grants me instant access to the files on it,” Q quickly rose his finger, stopping the agent from talking. “And if you ask me for that bloody exploding pen, I’ll make sure everything you touch turns into an unusable pile of goo until the day you die.”

 

Of course Bond, Bond who never knew when to stop in some people’s opinion, poked Q’s nose, winking. That seemed to bring the young man’s brain to a screeching halt and when he opened his mouth to scold the agent for daring to touch him, all that came out was a sound akin to a confused mewl.

 

“There, there, my quartermaster. You can relax now and go back to being the fluffy, smart cloud that his minions adore for the next two weeks since I won’t be there to steal your spot in the morning. Tell me, will you miss seeing my face first thing in the morning? I know I’ll miss yours.”

 

The agent took a step closer and all Q managed to do was widen his eyes. He tried to take a step back or tell the agent to back off and maybe get a pair of glasses since a mark he was not, but it seemed like the rest of his body had gone on a complete lockdown and his muscles refused to obey the signals his brain sent.

“Oh, what do you know?” 007 asked softly, bringing his right hand up and resting it on Q’s shoulder. “You did manage to give me that magical touch… But I wonder what would happen if I were to touch you with my lips?”

 

And that was what snapped Q out of his temporary paralysis and he was quick to bend his leg and bring it up, hitting the agent in the groin. At the same time the agent doubled over in pain, the door opened and Moneypenny arrived, a handful of minions’ heads popping out from behind her.

 

“Bond, aren’t you causing enough trouble for your quartermaster?” She asked, eyebrows raised at the kneeling agent.

 

“I think 007 needs to go to medical and get glasses prescription. His age has finally caught up with his eyes and he can no longer tell who he is talking with. He had me confused with one of his desperate and lonely marks of his,” Q said calmly, walking around the agent and sitting down at his station, nimble fingers already flying over the keyboard. “Off you go, 007. And please crawl away faster than me finishing up this e-mail for human resources, unless you want to find yourself stuck in sexual harassment classes for the next five years.”

 

Pride wounded more than his genitals, James heaved himself back up and left the office, throwing a pained smile at Q over his shoulder, Moneypenny hot on his heels. The older man ignored the multitude of glares sent his way by the minions, but did ask the former agent if she could, perhaps, find a way to calm the Q branch down enough so that he wouldn’t be erased from the records.

 

“I will not blame them if they did that,” she said, laughing behind her hand once the two of them were in the elevator. “You did overstep your boundaries this time and you made their God upset.” Clicking her tongue, she leaned against the cold metal of the elevator, bobbing her head slightly to the poor excuse for a song.

 

“You can’t really blame me. The fire those green eyes shot my way every morning… Call me a glutton for punishment, but to be so close to them and those venom sprouting lips,” Sighing and massaging his temples, it took every ounce of control he had no to hit his head against something. “I really did not want to sexually harass him against his will.”

 

“It’s called sexual harassment because it is against someone’s will. Bond, I think you should really go to those classes. And if you want him to like you, why don’t you start by, oh I don’t know…Not stealing his spot on the morning train? What are you doing in that zone anyway? I am pretty sure you live on the other side of the city,” she asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion and concern for the other male.

 

“And he said he was mature. And that seat isn’t all that great anyway,” Bond muttered under his breath, although loud enough for Moneypenny to hear him.

 

“Not like you’re more mature than he is at this point,” she quickly shot back, punching his shoulder lightly. “Stop antagonizing him, stop with the lame pick-up lines when it comes to him, apologize for being a brute and maybe, just maybe, he will become your friend.”

 

The elevator’s doors opened and Bond quickly vacated it, leaving Moneypenny to herself, but not before telling her that he had decided to move a few months back. “It was an accident, I swear,” he said just as the doors closed and he was pretty sure he heard the woman worryingly calling him a stalker – but he wasn’t, really. It had been an accident.

 

***

 

“One mission not going tits up, that is all I am asking of you, Bond,” Q muttered into the coms, silently thanking the minion that had refilled his mug with the elixir of life.

 

It was supposed to be a smile mission, but then again, most of them were. Bond was simply supposed to go to Costa Rica, pretend he was a rich bastard looking for a way to expand his illicit affairs in that zone of the globe, go to a party, shag random woman #45567987 and then get access to the main servers so Q could slowly start to deconstruct the whole operation from inside. But no, Bond had to go be Bond and now he was being chased through a forest in the middle of the night by at least twenty guards and by a very angry and insulted husband.

 

“How could you mix the women up, Bond?” Q asked again, redirecting a NASA satellite to get a better view of the agent and actually save him. “You really do need glasses. Make a left at the next tree and jump in that cave.”

 

“Thank God there is only one tree in this forest full of trees, right Q?” Bond shot back sarcastically, but still managing to find the right tree to take the left at. “And that is not the only thing you ask of me, quartermaster,” he continued to whisper in his surprisingly still working communication device. “You ask me to bring your equipment back in one piece, and I am dreadfully sorry for the gun and the ring, but at least I now know that a gun isn’t a boomerang. And, tits up as this whole mission went at least you have access to their servers. ”

 

Q’s fight with the migraine was instantly lost at those words and he almost hit his keyboard with his fists. “Well, imagine how horrible of me it is to ask that you bring your equipment back in one piece,” he huffed and checked the map again, waiting for the others to be far enough so he could guide the danger prone agent to a boat and to the safety of England. “And I already knew that a gun isn’t a boomerang! You know how much money the equipment costs?”

 

The young man didn’t even have to try too hard to imagine 007’s amused face and that made his migraine only worse. And he was pretty sure he could hear the agent fight to hold down laughter.

 

“You also want me to not sit in your spot,” the agent said after a few minutes of total silence, just as Q was about to direct him out of the cave. “Speaking of which, have you been sent to HR yet for anger management by your minions?”

 

“Excuse me?” This time Q did raise his voice, causing the few minions that had been assigned to help with the mission turn and look in his direction. “I apologized, unlike a certain brute who can’t be troubled enough not aggravate the man who pretty much holds his life in the palm of his hands. Now get out of the cave, make a left and follow the sound of the bloody river. A boat is there to take you home. Q out.”

 

The quartermaster closed the coms before Bond could think of a comeback and gave orders not to be disturbed unless ‘the bloody ass is seconds away from blowing up Costa Rica’. He went back to his office and set about decrypting the files and searching for the information he needed while his minions kept a close eye on the menace that was Bond.

 

He got lost in the lines of coding, as he was prone to do, the world around him turning into endless ones and zeros, thanking whoever brought him food and tea without really being aware of it. At one point, someone presented him with the leftovers of Bond’s equipment and patiently listened to him grumble under his breath his worries before being guided effortlessly though the empty halls of MI6 and deposited in a company car to be driven home.

 

The city wheezed past him, his brain deconstructing each sound and color into strings of numbers, his fingers dancing in front of him as he tried to break the code that made up the world and build it into something different, a chuckle coming from somewhere near him sounding eerily familiar.

 

Only when his alarm went off the following day did he realize that he had been locked inside his head for three days straight and he made a mental note to thank whoever helped him for putting up with his smell and unkempt appearance.

 

He was lucky to catch the train in time and he made his way to his usual spot with a little smile on his lips, only for it to completely disappear when his green eyes landed on a bandaged up Bond sitting next to his preferred spot, a rather large box resting next to him.

 

The agent smiled and waved at him with his unbandaged arm, quickly jumping to his feet and grabbing the back of Q’s cardigan, pulling him back. “Now, don’t be like this. I save you your spot, quartermaster,” 007 whispered, catching the edge of Q’s clothes with his wounded hand to keep him in place and using his good hand to pick up the box.

 

Q thought about pushing slapping the offending hand off of his expensive cardigan, but he didn’t hate the other enough to cause him more pain. Actually, now that he was sitting quietly in his seat, eyes glued to the world outside and totally not looking at Bond’s smiling reflection, he realized he was more annoyed at the agent being bandaged up than anything.

 

“This?” James asked and lifted his wounded up a bit, noticing the angry and offended glare his Q was giving it. “Actually, turned out I had slept with the boat captain’s sister a few days back and for some strange reason, she thought I was going to marry her.”

 

Now actually looking at 007, Q’s eyes slowly shifted to the box for a second before looking back at the agent, eyes cold. “I’ll recommend him for knighthood,” was what he finally said, causing the other man to laugh, the addition of ‘I’m being serious’ actually bringing tears of to the agent’s eyes.

 

“Look, Quilliam…”

 

“Quilliam? Where did you get that name?” Q interrupted the agent, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Bond shrugged and deposited the box in the young man’s lap, patting his head with his free hand and raising his wounded one up to stop him from hitting him. Q was way too nice for his own good, the agent thought. “You look like a Quilliam to me.”

“Well you look like an ass to me so…Bottom it is then,” Q replied, actually smiling before getting distracted by the box and starting to poke at it.

 

“An apology,” Bond supplied, mentally giving himself a pat on the back from not making a sexual innuendo. “For doing something that might be considered sexual harassment and for ruining your toy—your equipment.”

 

The man actually looked apologetic and maybe Q felt inclined to accept the apology because of the broken lip, nose, and black eye that accompanied the shot arm. Or maybe that was because he was sitting in his favorite seat and the sun was out. Or maybe the planets were aligned in a certain way. Bottom line was that Q muttered “Apology accepted, James,” and the agent was all smiles all sunshine.

 

“What happened to Bottom?”

 

“He got kicked because he ruined a rather nice gesture,” Q shot back, his fingers twitching as he fought back from ripping the box open and looking inside.

 

“It is tea and two horrid cardigans,” Bond said, taking pity on his quartermaster who was less subtle than he thought and completely sucked at hiding his curiosity and enthusiasm. “Look, we started on the wrong foot,” he tried again. “I am sorry.”

 

Q smiled again, actually showing Bond his white teeth and he was getting ready to admit that, perhaps he had been childish in his anger over a seat. But just as he was about to voice that, Bond went and said “Also, if you really wanted this sit, you could have simply sat in my lap.”

 

“You are a horrible and eternally horny old man, Bottom.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re smiling,” the agent pointed out, winking. “Give me a chance and maybe you’ll see that I am not so horrible?”

 

The train picked that time to go into a tunnel for which Q was glad. Bond was still jumpy, as proven by the fact that the young man felt the other flinch and go for the gun which he no longer had. Q rested his hand carefully on the agent’s arm to calm him down and when the train exited the tunnel, he was greeted with a smiling Bond.

 

“Sure, I’ll give being your friend a shot,” Q said slowly, getting the impression for a fraction of a second that the other man seemed disappointed before being distracted by his phone. “But if you sit on my spot again…” Before accepting the call, Q made sure to pinch Bond’s leg as hard as he could, earning a flinch and a hiss, the agent muttering that perhaps he should be the one to go to HR for a the sexual harassment class.

 

Later that day, when Q was enjoying the tea Bind gave him, it dawned on the young man that Bond had received a very nice Aston Martin after Skyfall, a car which he had personally seen to and which he had modified to suit a double-oh agent. Headache suddenly King of Q’s brain, the quartermaster turned on MI6’s intercoms, too busy seeing red to care about proper protocol.

 

“James bloody Bond, what happened to the bloody expensive Aston Martin you got not even a year ago?!? I’ll cancel all your credit cards! You’ll have to sell each and every one of your bloody suits to get to work, you hear me! You are a complete menace to my budget!”


	2. My attempts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe slight angst at the start of the chapter.  
> Also, only did 4 years of child psychology so don't take the psychologist part as right. Although, I guess you could say that a double oh agent from the JB universe could be considered a child who is deprived of actually human warmth and understanding and who would be quick to attach himself to people who are kind to him when they are at their weakest point, as long as they do not openly pity them. Then again, what do I know? 
> 
> Please excuse and forgive any and all mistakes.

In his earliest memory, it was just him and Kincaid. Later, much later, after losing his friends in the navy, it was him and M and Alec and Q and the lovely Vesper and fiery Moneypenny. But he blinked and in the end, it was just him and a bit of Eve. Vesper lost to her own heart and a pathetic excuse for a man, Q lost to an explosion, M and his home to a dejected and lonely rogue agent and Alec to the uncertainty of the spy world. At that point in time, Eve had distanced herself after she had killed him and she was too afraid and too ashamed to try and rebuild their friendship.

 

He felt the whole world crumble around him at the same time as his house, but as he watched the nameless extraction team carry out M’s lifeless body and wondering just how much booze he would need to join her or if he should die in the line of duty, he felt the ghost of a touch on his shoulder.

 

“007.” It was the new Q, the young boy who had risked his new job to help him, the boy who was currently draping a shock blanket very awkwardly around him and trying to find something to say.

 

“Quartermaster,” James replied, mirroring the end of their initial meeting before scooting over a bit, silently telling the boy to sit down. Fragile arms presented him with a cup of crap coffee and neither said anything, both of them leaning on each other. Yet, strangely, James felt as if the last pillar that held him above the abyss of complete madness had suddenly been reinforced and the cold that had gripped his entire body starting to disappear.

 

Months passed and no one other than the psychiatrists talked about the Skyfall incident (as the new M had decided to officially call the mission) and his relationship with Moneypenny had fixed itself somehow. The woman would greet him when he came back from his missions, even call to check up on him and ask him to join her and her group of friends out on drinks.

 

His relationship with Q however was a whole other and very confusing story. The boy acted like Skyfall never even happened and he snipped and scolded James and every other double oh agent as he saw fit whenever his equipment was returned damaged – or not returned, as was his case. But there was something behind the cool and collected voice on the cons that gave the fact that Q actually cared and was worried in his own strange way.

 

James grew even more curious and since a curious double oh agent is a dangerous agent, he gave into his instincts and followed the boy around for a week. And he wasn’t noticed at all, which annoyed James the most. If the wind blew stronger, it could simply cardigan clad boy and whisk him away. The possibility of him being kidnapped by complete morons who mistook him for an eccentric right brat wasn’t out of the question.

 

And the boy loved to take the train. For some strange reason, Q always sat in the exact same seat, in the exact same train and got ‘lost’ looking either around or outside - and yet it seemed that he never took notice of James, which irked the agent to the core more than anything.

 

A deadly agent with a license to kill is sitting a few inches away from your face and you simply frown while looking at the iPhone of the completely unworthy man to your left and bite your lower lip? And of course the man tilted the phone so you could see it better and of course you wouldn’t notice that.

 

“If it isn’t a virus or anything made out of zeros and ones, the quartermaster’s brain refuses to accept it or see it as dangerous,” James grumbled, resting his spinning head in a very wasted Moneypenny’s lap.

 

The woman struggled a bit to focus her eyes on Bond’s, eventually opting to close her left on so she could see only one 007. “I’ll call you 0014 is you keep multiplying,” She shook her head and sloppily covered the agent’s mouth to keep him from questioning her logic. “No, no, wait, I want you to explain something to me first, you twat…” Her forehead bumped against him in an attempt to be secretive. “Did you use MI6 resources to do a check up a wanker whose only transgression was letting curious Q look at his phone?”

 

He pushed her face away and sat up straight, grabbing a beer bottle from the table and emptying it. “I had to be sure,” he defended himself, rolling his eyes when the woman started to laugh and accuse him of having, of all things, a crush on Q. Which maybe he did, now that he drunkenly thought about it.

 

A few days later, he talked with the new M, hoping to convince the man to force Q take either the car service to and from work or at least a couple of bodyguards if he was too stubborn to give up his train ride. But the new M refused to listen to reason, saying that the quartermaster knew what he was doing and that who would actually believe that a high ranking MI6 official would take a train to work? And bodyguards would only attract unwanted attention and, in the end, it was none of Bond’s business what Q did to get to work as long as there was no security threat.

 

His pleas and logic fell on deaf years, but James was lucky enough when, not even two hours after his fruitless meeting with M, the MI6 real estate agent contacted him and told him that he had found an apartment in the exact same building as Q’s. Of course, the guy didn’t say exactly that, but James knew the younger man’s address by heart.

 

But that was all the good news he got that day. Later on, Moneypenny herself delivered bond to the MI6 psychiatrist and the man informed the glaring agent that they could do that the whole day since M knew Bond was very stubborn and had reserved the whole day just for this meeting.

 

“I could declare you unfit for work and flag you as a possible threat for a high ranking MI6 official and have you shipped you off to Antarctica,” the psychiatrist said after two hours of just glares, jumping behind his chair before the agent’s hands could come in contact with any part of his body. “Or we could talk which will allow me to see why you are so suddenly interested in your quartermaster so much. You might also seek the comfort of a relationship that isn’t based on sex.”

 

And they talked for three hours, James never saying more than necessary, although it seemed that whatever he said was just enough for the psychiatrist to do his job. The man was good at what he did, James would admit, but that still didn’t mean that he hadn’t gotten the urge a couple of times to put a bullet between the eyes.

The agent was declared sane and his apparent attachment to Q labeled as ‘normal for a double oh agent who had been show kindness in a turning point in his life’ and cleared for duty once again. But he was warned to keep his distance of the other man refused his friendship offer and take into account the fact that his need to protect might be considered suffocating.

 

With that out of the way, the agent moved in the building one week later and of course Q didn’t notice. It took a bit for the young man to notice that they were both taking the same train to work – although, in Q’s eyes defense, the agent took the train with one station ahead of him due to the fact that he liked to jog early in the morning. It actually became clear to Bond that the only reason Q noticed him on the train was because he had sat down in his seat.

 

Oh, the glares the young man sent his way, the fire and passion that was present in those green eyes… If only they were directed at him with something other than complete contempt, betrayal and annoyance.

 

The agent tried to get the young man to talk with him, even kept the seat next to his free for about one week in hopes that Q would eventually cave in and sit down. But the same thing happened every day. Q got on the train with a little smile and maybe even humming a little song that was drowned out by the noise of the world only for his whole mood to change drastically when his eyes landed on Bond.

 

The older man even made subtle gestures for Q to sit next to him, but of course the quartermaster did not notice. Or maybe he chose to ignore that in favor of sulking and, no doubt, devising punishment plans in his head a few feet away from the comfortable chair. When he gave up saving a seat for Q and other people – young, pretty and very flirtatious women – sat next to him, he couldn’t simply ignore of they started talking with him and craving his attention, but he always kept Q in his field of vision.

 

The young quartermaster’s bad mood acquired in the train usually lasted until he walked through the MI6 doors, which the agent was always careful to open for him since the other expected the world to somehow read his mind and remove all the obstacles from his almost-stomping feet and self. He even had a tendency of almost walking into people.

 

Of course Bond was right behind him, a fake apology on his lips and holding back groans whenever people told him he should take his ‘child’s feelings in consideration especially since he looked like he was at that age’. Thank you for your worry, but he is not my child and he only looks very young and would you please mind your own business? Yes, I am rude, no he didn’t get it from me since I am not his father and please move along before I lose my temper and use my license.

 

And then, one day, Q seemed to finally snap. The man suddenly turned around and glared at him with all the power he could muster and James was happy that looks couldn’t really kill – although Q could find a way to build glasses that would take the intensity of its owner’s glare and turn it into some sort of death ray.

 

He couldn’t help but grin and be amused when Q got startled once he realized how close they were. “Quartermaster, perhaps you shouldn’t think of your zeroes and ones so hard and watch where you are going. You almost walked into five people and this door. And that was just today.”

 

Honestly, he was almost trying to be helpful. But it served only to further anger Q and the man seemed to somehow transform into a giant angry cat or snake, if the hissing words were anything to go by. “You’ve been sitting in my sport on purpose!” James ducked a bit when he saw the hands starting to move up, actually thinking that the man would give into temptation and attempt to smack his shoulder. “I’ll make these bloody doors automatic today!”

 

Startled, James simply watched Q walk away, shaking his head at the security guard’s silent questions. He’d try to talk with the quartermaster when he was more clam, he decided, internally flinching when his eyes met the psychiatrist who was also in the lobby.

 

“I swear I haven’t done anything other than come into work via train today,” James said with his hands up. “You can even check the news reports.”

 

The rest of that day was pretty strange; minions walking in and out of the building, one particular minion actually acquiring a really nasty bump on her forehead when the lobby was unfortunately full of people, which caused her to run away in tears. Bond assumed she had gone into hiding in a Q-branch bathroom and he almost felt bad for the poor girl.

 

Moneypenny appeared not five minutes after the incident and hit him with a few papers over the back of his head, informing him that a) he was being sent out and a new mission and needed to go get his equipment from Q and b) the minions were accusing him for the appearance of the tyrant that replaced their usually kind quartermaster.

 

“You better calm down the lightning storm of a man who’s able to make this country fall on its knees at the stroke of three keys or less while you’re in there, Bond,” Moneypenny had said, pushing him into the elevator and glaring at him until the doors blocked her view of him.

 

If he had any doubts that Q was still angry, the loud, commanding voice that greeted him as soon as he set foot in the boffin territory alongside the glares thrown his way completely dispersed him. He was even sure that him walking in the quartermaster’s office saved a boffin from having the famous Q mug thrown at his head.

 

“Quartermaster, my quartermaster, what is the matter? I could hear you shout at these poor boffins from the hallway.” Well, damn his habits. He actually planed on sounding worried and not mocking.

 

But Q ignored him and started to present him with the gadgets that he was supposed to use and blocked his usual question by raising an elegant and slender finger in the air. “And if you ask me for that bloody exploding pen, I’ll make sure everything you touch turns into an unusable pile of goo until the day you die.”

 

Too good of an opportunity to pass up, James couldn’t help himself and game into the temptation that was Q’s entire face and poked the man’s sculptured nose. He winked for a better effect and when the only feedback he got was a noise that he was pretty use it was usually made by a cat, Bond found himself that he simply had to be a tiny bit honest.

 

“There, there, my quartermaster. You can relax now and go back to being the fluffy, smart cloud that his minions adore for the next two weeks since I won’t be there to steal your spot in the morning. Tell me, will you miss seeing my face first thing in the morning? I know I’ll miss yours.”

A step closer to Q and the young man was almost completely robbed of his personal space, Bond’s common sense and ability to read the situation deciding to go on vacation that exact moment. “Oh, what do you know?” he breathed against the man’s red lips, his right hand resting it on Q’s shoulder. “You did manage to give me that magical touch… But I wonder what would happen if I were to touch you with my lips?”

 

It wasn’t the bliss or satisfaction of a kiss that followed the moment, but a rather huge pain traveling up from his groin and to his brain. Bond decided that Q was so thin he could use his whole body as a giant blade.

 

“Bond, aren’t you causing enough trouble for your quartermaster?” Moneypenny’s voice came from the door and when the agent turned his head to look, glares of minions stabbed him. Well, this was quite unfortunate.

 

***

 

After pleading with Moneypenny to save him from being erased by Q and his minion army and suffering through her teases and advice regarding the ‘courting of Q’ –which he should probably follow, a voice eerily similar to the old M whispered in his head – James had been packed in a car and then shipped off via plane to Costa Rica.

 

The mission was easy enough and he didn’t have to act too much like a rich bastard since he enjoyed drinking and the company of women and gambling. Perhaps he enjoyed the company of a certain young lady a bit too much because she reminded him of someone – but he would never admit even to himself if she reminded him of Vesper or Q – and that might have angered her father a bit. Whatever. He’d transfer some money to the man’s account as an apology later on and it wasn’t as if he’d actually bump into the guy again.

 

But, as easy missions tended to go for Bond, the situation went tits up pretty fast when he got to the final phase of the operation and now he was running in a very dangerous forest, followed by some very dangerous people with an upset Q in his ear.

 

“One mission not going tits up, that is all I am asking of you, Bond,” the quartermaster muttered, no doubt taking a sip of tea. “How could you mix the women up, Bond?” Q asked, not really allowing Bond to reply. “You really do need glasses. Make a left at the next tree and jump in that cave.”

 

“Thank God there is only one tree in this forest full of trees, right Q?” Bond shot back sarcastically, happy when he managed to make the right choice and duck into the cave. “And that is not the only thing you ask of me, quartermaster. You ask me to bring your equipment back in one piece, and I am dreadfully sorry for the gun and the ring, but at least I now know that a gun isn’t a boomerang. And, tits up as this whole mission went at least you have access to their servers. ”

 

It was too much fun to imagine Q’s puffed face and the lighter green color his eyes got whenever he was annoyed. “Well, imagine how horrible of me it is to ask that you bring your equipment back in one piece. And I already knew that a gun isn’t a boomerang! You know how much money the equipment costs?”

 

“You also want me to not sit in your spot,” James opted to say after carefully planning his words for a few minutes “Speaking of which, have you been sent to HR yet for anger management by your minions?”

They backfired, of course. And what did you expect if you constantly antagonize him? He asked himself, actually hitting his head against the damp wall of the cave as Q’s hurt and insulted voice flooded his ears. “Excuse me? I apologized, unlike a certain brute who can’t be troubled enough not aggravate the man who pretty much holds his life in the palm of his hands. Now get out of the cave, make a left and follow the sound of the bloody river. A boat is there to take you home. Q out.”

 

“Q, wait! I’m…” But the connection was cut before he could say he was sorry and a few seconds later he was dealing with a minion who Bond suspected might had it in for him since he was directed in a few trees and almost fell down a large hole.

 

“I am sure you could perfectly see the hole, random minion number 6 who is very lucky I don’t know his name or address right now,” James growled, still clinging to the ground and thanking his lucky stars that there were strong vines all over the place. It was a possibility that the minion had also seen that and had bet on the agent being fast enough to latch on to one. “And I am also sure that, no matter how cross the Quartermaster is with me, he’d be even more cross with you if _you get me killed._ ”

 

It became more than clear to him that today was not his day the moment he came face to face with the captain hired to ferry him to safety and it turned out to be the angry father. Who had a shotgun and who was pretty good with said shotgun. He was saved from death by the girl who had snuck on her father’s boat for whatever reason. She had shielded his body with hers and begged her father to stop.

 

James didn’t think it was possible for him to find a moment in time in which he would feel worse than the lowest of trash than right now. The father did as was asked by his precious jewel and the woman tended to the agent’s wound, caressing his face and kissing his forehead.

 

“Pretty girl, I am no good for you,” James said, catching one of her bloodied hands with his good one and kissing her knuckles. “I am a horrible human being who is best friends with Death and who can’t even be nice to someone who saves his life constantly.”

 

She cried, he apologized and promised her father enough money to get them both out of there and the girl still gave him one last kiss and told him to be happy with whoever was constantly on his mind.

 

***

 

When he was finally released by Medical, Moneypenny was the first to greet him. She walked with him to Q Branch and pointed to Q who looked terrible and tired and unfed. He carefully gave what was left of his equipment to the young man and asked him if the was all right, but the man seemed to be oblivious to who was there with him.

 

“Bloody 007…Look at what he did this time. And you know he almost got himself killed? He almost gets himself killed more than any other double oh I know. Ungrateful twat, that is what he is.”

 

James called out to Q a couple of times, even waved his hand in front of him. But a minion assured him that it was perfectly normal. “He does that when he has something very interesting on his hands. He’s been at it for almost three days…” The other man finished uncertainly, giving away that he was worried for his Overlord.

 

When the agent decided that enough was enough, he easily pulled Q up from his chair and then gently guided him around MI6. Moneypenny had anticipated this and had a car waiting to take them both home.

 

Q was even more fascinating when he was on autopilot. Even the driver had a slow start at the stop light, too busy watching the younger man seemingly play with the air around him, fingers gliding in front of his face and drawing invisible patterns on the car’s window. Bond chuckled when Q turned his attention to his face and started to wave his fingers in front of his eyes.

 

“Is my face interesting, Q?” Of course he got no reply, just an owl-like blink and a jump from the driver when he turned to look at him. “I would so hate to hear that you are unable to keep your mouth shut,” he said emotionlessly and the driver got the point, keeping his eyes on the road for the rest of the trip.

 

It was fairly easy to guide Q to his apartment and fish his keys out of his cardigan, easier still to deactivate the entire security system by touching Q’s hand against a panel as per Eve’s instructions. What wasn’t easy, however, was he put the young man to bed and bundled him up in blankets only to suddenly realize just how tired and cold he was. He’d drop dead right next to Q and on top of the blankets and sleep for an eternity – or until the younger man would taser him out of bed or something similar.

 

But that would be too much even for him, so James simply patted the sleeping man’s head, put the glasses safety on the nightstand and retreated to his own apartment. It was enough to know that Q was sleeping safe and sound right under him.

 

***

 

He had almost lost the train. But he got in right on time and the people were actually nice enough to let him have both the seats. Of course, he might have dramatized just how painful his wounds were, but it was for a greater cause so the world should excuse him.

 

He was quick to greet the younger man with a smile and a wave while Q was quick to look like a sudden lighting storm happened on his parade and treat him with his back. “Now, don’t be like this. I save you your spot, quartermaster,” he said after he grabbed hold of the horrid cardigan and managing to not-quite-manhandle Q into sitting in his usual spot.

 

Mature as the other man was, he was glaring out the window and doing his best to pretend that he wasn’t looking at the agent. But the double oh knew better and caught Q’s eyes in the reflection, noticing just how upset he looked while glaring at his bandaged appendage. “This? Actually, turned out I had slept with the boat captain’s sister a few days back and for some strange reason, she thought I was going to marry her.”

 

“I’ll recommend him for knighthood,” Q said very seriously, causing Bond to laugh. “I’m being serious!”

 

It took the agent a few seconds to recompose himself and, with one last glance at the box in his lap he decided to be serious. “Look, Quilliam…” Or, well, as serious as he could be.

 

“Quilliam? Where did you get that name?” Q interrupted him and he shrugged, explaining that he looked like a Quilliam to him. Maybe he’ll get the mysterious Q to reveal his name if he called him by the wrong one enough times. “Well you look like an ass to me so…Bottom it is then,” the young man continued, smiling and poking the box that was now resting in his lap.

 

“An apology,” and good for him because he was strong enough to not turn the nickname into an innuendo. “For doing something that might be considered sexual harassment and for ruining your toy—your equipment.”

 

“Apology accepted, James.”

 

Upon hearing his first name from Q’s mouth, James felt like he had just floated on could nine and bumped head first into a silver lining. “What happened to Bottom?”

 

“He got kicked because he ruined a rather nice gesture.”

 

Q was a lot of things, except for subtle when something grabbed his attention and presented itself as a secret to him, which was currently what the box was doing. “It is tea and two horrid cardigans. Look, we started on the wrong foot. I am sorry.” He was almost blinded by the beautiful smile that he got in reply. “Also, if you really wanted this sit, you could have simply sat in my lap.” He could only go for so long without being himself.

 

“You are a horrible and eternally horny old man, Bottom.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re smiling.” He winked at Q and scooted a tiny bit closer to him, hoping to feed off the warmth the other man was unaware of sharing with the rest of the world. “Give me a chance and maybe you’ll see that I am not so horrible?”

 

The sudden entrance of the train in a tunnel jolted the agent within Bond awake and he made to grab his gun before Q calmed him down by resting his hand on his arm. “Sure, I’ll give being your friend a shot,” the young man said softly and James was sure –and also hoping really hard- that the phone call caused Q to miss his dejected expression. He was hoping for more, but friendship was enough.

 

“But if you sit on my spot again…” Q’s nails were perhaps a tad too sharp because Bond felt the pinch all the way to his heart and he was pretty sure he heard an old woman gasp and splutter shocked at the ‘indecent’ gesture.

 

“My dear, perhaps it is you who needs to go to HR and get put in that sexual harassment class,” Bond whispered, rubbing his leg.

 

A bit later, while humming to himself and glaring at the people who looked at him strangely because 007 never hummed, not even when he was on a homicidal rampage, the speaker system kicked into action and sure enough, Q’s shrill traveled all throughout the MI6 building.

 

“James bloody Bond, what happened to the bloody expensive Aston Martin you got not even a year ago?!? I’ll cancel all your credit cards! You’ll have to sell each and every one of your bloody suits to get to work, you hear me! You are a complete menace to my budget!”

 

The agent tried to make a swift exit, but he was intercepted by a very angry looking new M, Eve right behind him with a stack of papers that could only mean bad news for him. So maybe he had lost the Aston Martin at cards by accident, but… “I can win it back and get more founding for the angry Quartermaster. Provided MI6 lends me a Jaguar to play it for my car.” And that was when Bond realized that, if you pushed the new M hard enough, he could come really close to actually spewing fire.


End file.
